day 23: sorry, i’m not here right now

August 23, 2010

This past weekend you could find me roasting marshmallows on a bonfire by the tracks with random strangers strumming guitars and singing Neil Young songs with French Québécois accents. You could also find me biking across the city at 2am, getting a flat tire, having my friend repair it, only to pop AGAIN 5km down the road, which didn’t stop us from finding the top secret location of a not-so-secret rave and dancing until 8am in the parking lot of an abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city. The rest of the weekend was predominantly spent on my couch cursing the hangover gods who looked down on me with very little pity but rather a look that said, “This is all your own doing, child.” (the Lord felt strangely like a big black mama from the south Saturday afternoon). Thing is though, even in the throes of the dreadful hangover, I never once regretted this weekend’s debauchery (though I might think twice about mixing whiskey and wine next time). It was a weekend overflowing with life.

Today, however, you can find me sitting at work like a zombie, staring at my screen (blink. blink. blink) and sipping massive amounts of coffee, which is far less thrilling or interesting, if you ask me. So instead, I invite you to fly over to Gypsy Girl’s Guide, where I’ve written a guest post about traveling in your own backyard. Check it out, friends.